


Ripple Effect

by mylittlejaybird



Series: Blood Is Thicker Than Water [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Abuse, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, No one you know dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8107696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittlejaybird/pseuds/mylittlejaybird
Summary: Actions have consequences. Those consequences have consequences. And so on and so forth.  Jason keeps feeding into this weird cycle he's caught in with Dick, and he doesn't know how to get out of it. Worse yet, he's not sure he wants to.





	1. Making Waves

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't actually what I'd planned to write next for this series, but upon getting partially through the next part, I realized I'd skipped a lot of crucial character development. So, here you go.

Hood called out instructions to the dock workers, to make sure they moved the crates of weapons in a timely manner. He was _really_ not in the mood for any Bats tonight.

Which was probably why the flash of black and blue on the rooftop of the adjacent warehouse raised his hackles. He snapped some orders at the men before he stalked off, ready to use himself as bait.

_...5, 6, 7, 8..._

Sure as shit, once he was alone, a familiar figure dropped down and threw a punch at him. He deflected it easily with a growl, and put distance between them without retaliating. He continued to walk.

“Really, Hood? You’re getting sloppy.” Nightwing’s voice held the grin Jason just knew was on his taunting face. “Usually you at least try and be subtle.”

Jason was the bait. He wouldn’t rise to Dick’s. He just needed to distract him a little longer.

_...47, 48, 49...._

Nightwing laughed and jumped up on top of the shipping containers lining the docks, arms spread in a T as he walked along the ledges, as though he needed the help with his balance. Jason knew it was a show of trust. Idiot.

“It’s been quiet tonight.”

Jason didn’t bother answering, though he picked up his pace and hoped Dick would take it as irritation.

_...74, 75..._

A laugh trickled down to him from above. He didn’t bother looking up at him. If Dick really wanted to pick a fight tonight, Jason would gladly make him his punching bag.

Just not yet.

Nightwing jumped down with a neat little flip and landed in front of him, grin wide. Jason resisted punching it off his face. Instead, he shouldered past him, and Dick moved aside for him as easily as water.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Nightwing observed as he fell into step beside him.

_...90, 91, 92..._

“Got nothin’ to say to you.”

“Really? I find _that_ hard to believe.” Still all smiles.

A growl rumbled in his throat as he shoved him away. “Fuck off.”

_...103, 104, 105..._

“That’s better!”

Hood finally shot him a glare. “Don’t you got a warehouse to raid or somethin’?”

“When you’re so obviously eager to get rid of me? Robin can handle it.”

... _114..._

Hood barked a laugh. The sound startled Dick. “Funny, I’m sure B thought the same thing.”

_120._

An explosion ripped through the docks on the heels of his words. Hood allowed a mean smile to spread across his face when Nightwing faltered and twisted around to stare wide-eyed at the flames that engulfed the warehouse they’d left behind.

“Better run along Dickiebird. Don’t want another dead Robin, do we?” His voice was cruel. Good. He turned from the inferno and walked away.

When he looked again, Nightwing was gone.

\---

He had expected Dick to take several nights to track him down after that fiasco. Instead, he found him waiting on the rooftop of his current bolt hole when he returned to it early that morning. Nightwing paced, tension making him stiff and his movements jerky. Jason was furious; he wracked his brain for how the hell they’d found him this time. He’d been so _careful._

“You got a lotta nerve showin’ up here,” Jason growled. He flexed his fingers which ached to pull a gun, or a knife, and _ruin_ Gotham’s golden boy. God, Bruce would never forgive him.

 _Good,_ a vindictive voice in his head hissed. He ignored it with the ease of a lot of practice.

Dick actually took a few steps toward him and jabbed a finger in his direction. “ _I_ have a lot of nerve? You could have hurt Robin! Two of your own men were injured!”

“Not my fault.” His voice was surprisingly steady, but he shifted his stance to the offensive. If pretty boy wanted a fight, oh, he would _gladly_ deliver.

There was a short silence, and then Dick shook his head. Anger darkened his voice. “Two men in critical. From what we can glean, their truck wouldn’t start.” He shifted his weight, looked about two moments from leaping at Jason. “It was thrown into the bay by the blast. Robin managed to get them out.”

Hood scowled. “That ain’t my fuckin’ fault.”

“You blew up a warehouse full of munitions and you don’t think you’re to blame for the people that were injured during it?” The laughter from Dick’s throat was ugly, disbelieving. “Is that how you sleep at night?”

His mind briefly filled with dirt and screaming and _green_ before he shook his head to clear it. Sleep. Hah, right. “You got nothin’. No proof it was me.”

The sound of absolute frustration was the only answer he got. He smirked and stood straighter, before he walked up to the other man, fairly certain he wouldn’t throw the first punch. “Betcha dear ol’ dad is just _furious_ at you. Abandoning his brat to come banter with li’l ol’ me?”

Not for the first time, he underestimated Dick. The left hook against the side of his face startled him for several long moments. He turned his head back to him with a low, animalistic growl. The Pit hissed and snarled in the back of his mind, stoked his basest urges.

He didn’t punch back.

He _lunged_ at Dick and rode him down to the rooftop with an angry shout. He didn’t get a chance to follow through before Dick had used the momentum to flip him up and off of him so he could roll to his feet.

Jason scrambled up and faced Dick again. He stopped himself from going after him again with great effort. “I will fuck you _up_ , Goldie.”

Something flashed over Dick’s face, though the mask obscured it somewhat. It took a moment for Jason to register it, and then took him another to remember why it looked familiar.

Then it hit him.

It was that brief hunger that had passed over Dick’s features that time Jason had had him pinned as his fingers flexed around his throat. He remembered Dick’s _stupid_ offer.

A sneer curled his lip. “Get the fuck outta here. I ain’t interested in fulfillin’ whatever masochistic fantasy you _think_ is gonna happen.”

Dick looked at him, a mixture of surprise and anger on his face. “That has _nothing_ to do with why I’m here. You were irresponsible and two men nearly died because of it!”

Jason snorted and forced himself to drop his offensive stance. “Y’know, you’re awful worked up for me not actually killin’ nobody.” Silence greeted him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He turned towards the stairway access and headed inside.

Dick didn’t follow him.

When he checked the security feed later, he saw that Dick didn’t leave right away either. He’d lingered outside. Hell, it looked like he’d _wanted_ to follow. Idiot.

\---

The next day he cleared out of his safehouse. It wasn’t safe anymore if they knew where he was.

\---

He learned the names of the two dock workers who’d been hurt and paid off their hospital bills. Granted, he used money he’d stolen from businesses owned by Wayne Enterprises, but he figured it was Bruce’s responsibility more than his anyways.

Bruce was the one who kept crime rampant. He threw criminals away and let their families suffer for it. Never addressed the lack of jobs, or inaccessible healthcare and education that forced people to turn to crime in the first place. Didn’t understand that his justice only worked for the middle and upper class of Gotham.

The poor were Jason’s people. He grew up with them and he knew their struggles better than Bruce ever could.

So yeah, maybe he donated the rest of the money he’d stolen to various charities to help out the less fortunates in Gotham. It was untraceable. No one would ever know it was him.

He didn’t need or want thanks. He was just doing his goddamn job, far as he was concerned. Which was more than he could say for the rest of the vigilantes that called Gotham home.

\---

The Replacement got in his way, fucked up his plans. Months of work, _ruined._ The smuggling ring leader would have hightailed it out of Gotham before long. Jason would need a miracle to catch him before he left the city limits and that was assuming he wasn’t already in Pennsylvania.

He didn’t have _time_ for a miracle.

Red Robin’s bo staff snapped sharply against his side. He snarled and grabbed it, used it to yank the Pretender towards him. Tim was startled enough that he didn’t immediately let go, which gave Jason enough of an opening to bring down his heavy boot on Tim’s knee.

He went down with a sharp cry, and Jason followed, straddled him. He brought the staff down to press against his throat, leaned on it threateningly. “You gonna tell me why you let that piece of shit get away?” He increased the pressure and ignored Tim’s flailing hands - his thighs blocked his access to Red Robin’s belt.

The Pit coiled and hissed as his anger grew, and he briefly considered ending the Pretender’s life right then and there.

A kick to his jaw startled him long enough to sit up and pay attention. It was all the time Red Robin needed to grab his staff and nail him on the other side of his face. It sent him to the pavement. He shook his head; the helmet had absorbed most of the blows. His neck was going to hurt like a sonofabitch later though.

Once his eyes focused, he saw Red Robin limping away, and Nightwing stood before him, face furious. “What the fuck are you doing Hood?”

Jason didn’t bother answering. He got to his feet and faced Dick. Violence radiated off him in waves. He lifted a hand and gestured for him to come at him.

The speed with which Nightwing launched himself at him had him on the defensive at first, and he blocked and parried easily, but it wasn’t long before he let himself take a few calculated hits so he could slip through the cracks in Dick’s own defenses and land a few punches of his own. Of course, he hit a _lot_ harder, and Dick’s armor was thinner than his.

It didn’t take long to back Dick against a wall. From there it took no effort at all to shove a forearm against his windpipe and a knife against his side to encourage his cooperation.

Dick stilled surprisingly fast. The lenses of his domino gave nothing away. Jason tapped the blade against the place he knew he could slide it between Dick’s armor. “Checkmate.”

When Dick didn’t do or say anything, he pressed harder against his throat with a sneer. “Funny, seem to remember you _liking_ this last time.”

He saw the light flush on Dick’s face, and he raised his hand to sign at him in ASL. Jason scoffed and loosened his grip. “Speak.”

“Put the knife away. Please.”

Jason arched a brow and trailed it up and down Dick’s side. “Now why would I do that?”

Dick swallowed, and christ he wished he could see his eyes. He couldn’t lie worth a damn with them showing. Luckily for him people were usually too preoccupied with his vapid smile to pay much attention to his eyes.

A scowl crossed Jason’s face when Dick mumbled something. “Speak up, didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said,” He faltered, wet his lips and tried again. “I said it’s a hard limit.”

Jason drew back from him entirely. “Are you serious with this shit again? Went from protecting baby bird to begging me to kick your ass?”

“I wasn’t _begging_.” Dick didn’t move away from the wall, kept his eyes on the blank lenses of Hood’s helmet. “And I’d rather you took it out on me than Red Robin.”

Jason tapped the knife against his thigh as he considered Dick in front of him. “You really wanna be my punchin’ bag huh?”

A flicker of something crossed his face before it was gone. “I want you to leave little Red alone.”

Jason shook his head and pointed the knife at Dick. “I ain’t seeking you out whenever the Pretender fucks one of my ops up. Months of work Dickie. _Months_. Russo is prolly well on his way outta the state already, and with him any trace of who his suppliers were.”

“He’s out of Gotham, what do you care?”

Jason stiffened, before he grinned nastily and stepped up close to Dick. A thrill ran up his spine when he allowed it without a fight. “Y’know what? You’re right.”

Dick didn’t have time to look confused before he grunted at the sharp burning pain in his side. Jason laughed cruelly and pulled his hand back. He left the knife in Dick.

“I don’t care.” He turned and walked away. Dick’s cursed loudly behind him.

\---

The Pit roiled through him, hissed and spit throughout his entire being. He’d failed. He had one goddamn job and he had _failed._

The sounds of the kids screaming as the building had burned down around them was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. He’d been too late. By the time he was close enough to think about entering the building, the fire had reached the gas lines and the whole place had gone up in a roar. Jason had been thrown halfway down the block.

He’d stared at first. Shock, his mind dully provided. He was in shock. There was no more screaming. Just the echoes inside his head.

The worst part was the one responsible was already dead, so Jason had no one to go after. No one to exact justice on for the kids who’d been used as part of a greater scheme. Pawns. In the end Jason was the only piece left on the board.

Funny, he didn’t feel like a winner.

He’d ran to where his bike was parked and driven away from the approaching sirens. There was nothing he could do, and he knew the Madness was setting in. Too many similarities to his own death. Too close to home.

It swallowed him a few blocks from his current safehouse, filled his mind with poison and hate. He pulled over his bike in a back alley to take the helmet off and breathe as he fought off nausea. His mind was _green_.

Which is when Dick found him, of course.

“Little wing?” His tone was cautious. He shouldn’t have come to him at all.

Jason snapped his head around to peer up at him on the fire escape. The green of the Pit flashed through his eyes and he snarled; it was the only warning Dick had before he gave chase.

He didn’t remember much of what happened after that. They had run across rooftops and through back streets, scaled buildings and dropped back down; all the while Dick fought to stay one step ahead of Jason.

Jason eventually tackled him, and they fought. Dick tried to talk to him but he didn’t hear any of it. All he knew was green. Green and the screams of the children he’d failed to save and the warehouse he’d never escaped, not really.

He knew he punched and kicked and slammed Nightwing against every hard surface available. He knew Dick fought back. They were both going to be a mess of bruises and contusions in the morning, probably with concussions and fractures to accompany them.

Eventually, the Pit receded. He was left alone in his own mind, and the quiet was eerie.

He had Dick pinned, his arm twisted in a way that meant it was dislocated. He panted heavily and gave it a sharp jerk to pop it back into place. Dick barely made a sound. Jason fell onto his back beside him and looked up at the pollution-clouded night sky. He felt like shit, but his mind was his own.

Nightwing sat up next to him and looked at him cautiously; he breathed carefully, winced when he moved a certain way. Jason wondered if he’d fucked up his ribs. Jason wondered if he cared.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Jason wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t find the energy.

“Oracle was watching.” Dick looked away to watch the blinking lights of a low flying plane overhead. “She told us what happened.”

“So the big man’s gonna come lecture me?” He snorted. “This should be good.”

“No. I told him to let me handle you.”

That made Jason laugh. He looked at Dick, saw the dark bruises that already marred his face. “Well, you sure did your job.”

Dick gave him a tired smile, and Jason almost felt something like guilt when he saw one of his teeth were missing. Those always sucked to get replaced. “You didn’t kill anyone.”

A derisive sound was torn from Jason’s throat. “Just a dozen kids.” There’d been fifteen, actually. “That’s a new record, even for me.”

“I know you did everything you could. I wish I could’ve been there. Maybe I could’ve made a difference.”

Jason sneered and pushed himself up, long before he felt ready to. “Yeah, always gotta be the big goddamn hero, don’tcha Dickie?”

“That’s not what I meant. Just... maybe if you’d had help-”

“I don’t need your goddamn help. Or your pity.” He took out his pack of smokes and shook one out, lit it with a shaky inhale. The cloud dissipated quickly on the exhale.

Dick sighed. He sounded so _done_ with his bullshit. He couldn’t blame him. “I’ll always be there to help you; all you have to do is ask.”

Jason glanced around. “Could start by telling me where I ditched my bike and helmet.”

Dick got to his own feet - a sharp intake of breath gave away just how much he was hurting. Jason wondered if that was all him or if Dick had run into anyone else that night. “Little Red took them to your safehouse. I assume you can cab it from here?”

Jason spun to look at him, anger sparked again. “Will you assholes quit stalking me already?”

Another of those tired smiles. “Not a chance little wing.”

“Oh fuck off.” Jason scoffed in disgust and strolled away,

And for some goddamn reason, Dick let him go.

\---

The news blamed the Red Hood for the attack that had left fifteen children and their supervisor dead. There was no evidence that showed their supervisor was the one responsible. Jason’s eyewitness account wouldn’t hold up in court. _Broken_ fucking legal system.

He had dark crimson roses delivered to all fifteen graves every month. After a year he’d limit them to annual deliveries on the anniversary of the day he failed them.

They weren’t the first roses he’d had delivered to Gotham Cemetery, and they wouldn’t be the last. He’d more or less made peace with that.

The lives he saved outnumbered those he failed. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on the small gravestones with the roses laid atop them.

He moved on.

\---

Nightwing was missing for weeks after that. Jason tried not to notice, but Dick had made such an effort to be a part of his life that his absence was glaringly obvious.

He tried to look into it quietly, but it wasn’t long before Oracle hacked his computer. Her green digital face interrupted his research; she took up his entire screen.

Jason groaned loudly and pushed the laptop away from himself. “ How the fuck do you people keep finding me?”

Oracle’s distorted voice still carried her amusement perfectly clearly. “Hello to you too, Jason.”

“The hell do you want?”

“A little birdy told me you were looking for Dick. I thought I’d save you the trouble and resources and just tell you.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because you’re family.”

Jason slammed the laptop closed and went to have a shower. He warmed up some leftover Thai when he was done and sat back down at his desk to eat it. He scowled at his unassuming laptop.

With a sigh he opened it back up. Oracle was gone, but a folder had been placed on his desktop titled “Case File G761-4”. He smirked a little and opened it.

X-rays, blood test results, medical reports and a mission debriefing. He read through it while he ate his Thai.

Apparently, after their little scuffle Dick had decided to downplay the injuries he’d received from Jason. Idiot had gone so far as to falsify his patrol report from that night. He kept reading with a frown.

Dick had taken two days rest before going out on patrol again, fractured bones and internal bleeding be damned. He might’ve been fine, but it looked like he’d gotten himself captured by a newer gang looking for street cred. What better way to prove your badassery than catching a bat?

Torture. Nothing permanent, but torture nonetheless. They’d had Dick for six hours before the cavalry had arrived.

The report ended with his current status. Jason scrolled back up and clicked the details on those involved in Dick’s abduction and torture.

His grin held a touch of Madness while he prepared to give them a little surprise visit.

\---

“Jason.”

One word. Just his name. But it was enough.

He turned with a snarl clearly visible on his face. This was his safehouse - except it wasn’t very goddamn safe if _Batman_ stood in his fucking living room.

“Get the _fuck_ outta my house!”

Bruce’s jaw tensed beneath the cowl. Oh good, they were both pissed. This could only end well.

“You had no reason to go after the Reapers. They never interfered in your business.”

“Y’know B, I mighta talked to you about this if you’d picked anywhere but my _goddamn home!”_  He kicked his coffee table at Bruce - his mug, TV remote, ashtray and empty dinner plate all flew off of it.

Batman easily batted the coffee table away, but Jason was right behind it, fists curled tight as they aimed for the weakest parts of his armor. Jason himself had none; he’d been getting ready to catch a few hours of sleep before he had to head out again.

His knuckles were bleeding in record time, torn apart by the kevlar. Bruce had foregone words and was simply on the defensive, not in any real danger despite Jason’s strikes hitting harder than your average human thanks to the Pit’s influence.

It wasn’t long before Bruce had him shoved face first into a wall. Blood dripped from his nose and split lip, and his arms were pinned behind him. He laughed and spat red onto the floor. “Bring back memories B?”

The pressure threatening to break his arm increased. Still a sore subject then. Good to know.

“Why did you go after the Reapers?”

Jason banged his head against the wall in irritation, unable to roll his eyes where Bruce could see them. “I didn’t kill any of ‘em. What’s the issue?”

More pressure. He felt old wounds flare up but refrained from drawing attention to it. This was nothing compared to being pulverized by a crowbar. He’d deal.

“You maimed them!” Real anger was thick in Bruce’s voice. Oh, and it _was_ Bruce’s voice. Not Batman’s. “Jason, some of them may never recover!”

Satisfaction threaded its way through Jason, his tone smug. “That so?”

More pressure, and then a lance of fire that meant one of the many past fractures in his arm had cracked. Fan-fucking-tastic. He shifted and the pain throbbed deep.

He’d deal.

“Well I can’t go back and _un_ maim them, and we both know you ain’t gonna toss me behind bars so...” He shrugged his good arm. “What do you want from me B?”

Bruce shoved off him in disgust, and ah, there was Batman. “For you to learn that your way isn’t right.”

Jason turned to face him, unable to hide the angle he held his arm to keep it from flaring up painfully. Bruce gave no sign he noticed. Asshole. “This ain’t never gonna be something we agree on. So if that’s all, kindly get the _fuck_ out of my house so I can fix myself up and find somewhere else to live. _Again.”_

Batman didn’t move. Jason was about to snark at him some more when Batman did the subtle head tilt that meant someone had spoken to him via the comm unit in his cowl. Jason had no idea what they said but next thing he knew Batman had slipped out of his window in a flurry of scalloped cape.

“Fucking...” He sat on his couch and grunted as he inspected his arm. A hairline fracture, most likely. Lucky. “Oracle if that was you, I’m gonna buy you so many flowers. D’you even like flowers?”

His laptop chimed and he couldn’t stop the smirk that spread over his face. He got up and dug out his first aid kit. “No? How ‘bout chocolate. You still like that one kind? From Brazil or some shit?”

Two chimes. He laughed as he pulled out gauze. “Brazilian chocolate truffles it is.”

He fell silent while he wrapped his arm, created a makeshift splint until he could fetch a proper one from one of his better stocked caches. He healed faster than normal nowadays, which generally cut his recovery down by half. Made him more reckless but kept him going when he might’ve otherwise ended up like Dick.

The thought brought a snort from him. Specks of blood sprinkled the gauze. Whatever. He got up and cleaned up the rest of the mess from his and Bruce’s scuffle.

“You weren’t the one to tell ‘im where I live, were you?” The computer chimed before he’d finished speaking. He smirked. “Just checkin’. I’d hate to have to poison good chocolate.”

No response. Well, _he_ thought he was funny.

\---

His arm was nearly healed the next time he saw Dick. He tested it by punching Nightwing square in his perfect jaw. Fuck, he’d wanted to do that for a while.

Dick yelped in surprise and reeled back before he sunk into a defensive posture, brow furrowed beneath his domino. He looked so _injured_ , and not even physically. Honestly he reminded Jason of a dog who was too stupid to realize it was in trouble for shitting on the carpet.

“What was _that_ for?”

Jason rolled his shoulders and mirrored Dick’s stance. He didn’t make a move yet. “For bein’ a fuckin’ moron.”

A wry smile answered him. “Going to have to be a little more specific.”

Cheeky fucker. “You ever come to me again to get your ass kicked, you tell me if you’re already fuckin’ hurt. If you die ‘cause you’re too stupid to know your own limits, B is gonna skulk outside my bedroom window for the rest of eternity. Jerk don’t even sing love ballads no more.” Nevermind that that night had definitely been more about giving Jason an outlet for the Pit Madness than about anything Dick wanted from him. But they weren’t going to talk about that.

He could see the confusion morph into relief, and then quickly slide right into amusement. Perfect. “B’s a terrible singer anyways.”

“He really fuckin’ is.” He shifted his balance, watched Dick do the same in response. He could feel his own anticipation building. “So how fucked up are you tonight?”

“Left knee’s still pretty banged up. Keep accidentally making it a target.” Dick made a face, his irritation at himself evident. “Freshly healed ribs and ulna on the right, newly pulled calf on the left.”

Jason gave him a skeptical look. “Dickhead, why the fuck are you even here?”

“I heard what happened to the Reapers.” His face turned - heh - grim. “Why’d you do it? You had no business with them.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. He narrowed his eyes, lip curled into a sneer. “You and B got eyes on everything I do, huh. Know _all_ my ops?”

Well then, that certainly sparked some anger within Dick. Jason watched his body tense up and the muscle in his cheek jump. His voice was a lot less amicable when he spoke next. “Are they yours?”

Jason caught on immediately. “You think _I_ sent them after you?” He barked a humorless laugh, let himself drop out of his stance. Dick wasn’t gonna try shit tonight, and he’d lost his will to indulge him.

Dick noticed the change, and curled his hands into fists. Oh so Goldie was going to get angry instead? So be it. “I think you’re awfully friendly with the criminal underbelly of Gotham.”

That brought a slightly more genuine laugh from Jason’s mouth. “Oh yeah? How’s Deathstroke, huh? He still trying to recruit you?” He didn’t wait for Dick to answer. “And how’s the Replacement handling al Ghul? He any closer to accepting the position of Demon’s Head from Ra’s? B still fucking Talia and who fuckin’ knows who else?”

“That’s different!”

“You’re right.” He ignored the silence that was Dick’s surprise. “The people I work with usually ain’t scum. They’re just in bad places with few choices available to them. They make do.”

Dick frowned and shook his head. “There are progr-”

“They don’t help! Either the wait lists are months to years long, or they don’t pay a livin’ wage. Hell, some a the people I know commit petty crimes ‘cause every time they get outta jail, they don’t know what the fuck to do with themselves, so prison’s the safer choice. The system is fuckin’ broken, asshole. That’s something you and B never fucking got through those thick skulls of yours.”

He was baring his teeth by the end of it, ready to fight again. He was so _tired_ of this same argument. Of trying to show the rest of the vigilantes in Gotham where their serve and protect mission failed. Where the law failed.

Where they failed.

Blind and deaf idiots. He was never going to get them to understand.

He realized Dick hadn’t replied - he was looking at him like he’d just revealed bombs strapped to his chest. He thought back on what he’d said and wondered which bit had gotten through Dick’s own anger. Because gee willikers Batman, did the original Robin have some anger issues. Sure, he took longer to rile up, but his long fuse lead to a mighty huge pile of dynamite.

Moments passed. Jason grew tired of waiting. “Look, they ain’t mine. I don’t generally shitkick my own men, unless they go against my rules. I had business with the Reapers that had nothin’ to do with what happened to you.” A cruel smile spread across his face. “But I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t enjoy beating the shit outta them because of what they did.”

Dick’s initial surprise finally passed, and he frowned again. “Why?”

Jason walked up to Nightwing and stopped in front of him. He smirked down at the shorter man. Dick watched him warily, stance once more defensive. Good. “‘Cause I get dibs on bein’ the one to kick the ever living shit out of you.”

He was shoved back, and he laughed. “Oh c’mon now Dickie; I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“Don’t go near the Reapers again Hood.”

All business. Pity. It had almost looked like he was ready to take that giant bat-shaped stick out of his ass. “Maybe you should stay away from me then, Nightwing.”

Dick was silent a moment, before he gave a jerky nod. “Probably should.” A beat, then he smiled crookedly. “Probably won’t.”

Jason didn’t bother watching him leave.

\---

Okay so he wasn’t perfect. In his defense, the Reapers had cut a lot of corners trying to rise up in the ranks. If he hadn’t scared the everliving shit out of them, they would’ve ended up dead by someone else’s hands.

Honestly, losing the use of a hand or leg was a better deal than death. They could still do something with their lives. Cause, y’know, they were still _alive._

Not that he expected Bruce to understand that.

He was unhappy to realize that he had kind of hoped Dick would, though.

That unhappiness turned right sour when he realized the Pretender, of all people, did.

\---

“We gotta stop meeting like this, baby bird.” Jason grinned down at Red Robin, bo staff yet again across his neck. “People are gonna talk.”

Tim looked bored beneath him. Like Jason was an inconvenience. That was... different.

“Red Hood, you’re letting them get away.”

Jason looked over his shoulder at the two men booking it down the back alley. He sighed, drew his gun and put a bullet in each of their calves. They went down with howls of pain.

Hood called out to them, “You try and crawl, and the next one goes up your ass!” They stayed down.

He turned back to Tim with a smirk. One hand held his gun aloft while the other still held the bo staff against Tim’s neck. “Now they ain’t.”

Red Robin sighed. “At least let me call them an ambulance.”

Jason arched a brow but shrugged and got to his feet. Tim made as though to sit up, but Jason planted a heavy boot on his chest and slammed him back onto the pavement. He leaned over him, the arm that held the staff resting against his own bent leg. “Nuh uh. Do it from down there.”

There was no argument, just a quick call to Oracle to dispatch an ambulance to the street address he provided her. Once he was done he glared up at Jason. “Are you going to gloat all night? I can make better use of my time elsewhere. I’m sure you could too.”

Jason stood there and let him squirm for a few more moments - or, well... Tim didn’t actually move. He just lay there passively, not so much as twitching a finger. It was kind of unnerving. He backed off and let the Pretender get to his feet. He tossed him the weapon and holstered his own. Tim collapsed his staff and stored it. Huh.

“...Not gonna lie, half expected a lecture from you too, kid.”

A frown pulled at the corners of Red Robin’s mouth. ”For the Reapers incident?” At Jason’s affirmative grunt Tim shrugged. “You did what you had to.”

Jason gaped in surprise. Because _what?_ “What?”

Tim gave him a look like he thought Jason was being intentionally thick. Jason regretted not giving him a black eye. Ah, well. The opportunity might still be presented to him.

“With the Reapers. I was watching them. They’re too small time for Batman to pay much mind, but they caused waves throughout the underground.” He nodded at Jason. “You kept their activities from escalating further.”

Jason gaped some more before he finally managed to find words to fill the silence. Well. Between them. The men at the end of the alley still whined pitifully, and the sound of an ambulance had gotten closer. “Since when are you on my side?”

At that Tim huffed and his expression grew cloudy, like a storm brewed inside of him. Jason had to wonder what else had been going on that had made his replacement so damn jaded.

“I don’t always approve of your methods, but I cannot deny that you get results. My data shows a steady drop in crime since your return.” Red Robin cocked his head, the motion ridiculously birdlike. “I know what you do for the people of this city.”

“Do you now?” Jason tried to keep his tone uninterested, but goddamn if the Pretender didn’t have his attention.

“I know what you do for your men.” He helped them out financially when he could. Footed for medical bills when that didn’t cut it. Helped them get their education so they could actually do something meaningful with their lives.

“For your victims.” The flowers he had delivered to their graves. He tried to punish those responsible for their deaths and put them in the ground too. They didn’t get flowers.

“For the people.” The countless donations to charities throughout the city. How he controlled crime so that it happened under his rules.

“For us.” Mostly Dick, but he’d been getting involved in more Bat-related business lately. Not entirely voluntarily mind.

He said none of this to Tim.

“Jesus, once a stalker, always a stalker, huh kid?” There was that frown again. Aw, baby bird didn’t like being called kid. Too fucking bad.

“The ambulance will be here in approximately two and a half minutes. GCPD isn’t far behind.” Tim spared a glance at the two men who watched them warily in the shadows of the alley. “You should make yourself scarce before they get here.”

Jason knew he was right, and yet... “Yeah. Good talk. We should never do it again.”

Of course _that’s_ what got Red Robin to finally crack a smile. Fucking creep.

\---

The next time Dick sought him out, there hadn’t been any city-wide crises, no one had died or been severely injured, Jason hadn’t blown anything up... Really, Gotham had shown her quiet side as of late.

It made Jason nervous. Too often this sort of quiet was the calm before the storm, but he didn’t know where it was brewing. It made him a little hypervigilant.

Which was probably why Dick’s sneak attack failed miserably.

He heard him before he saw him, but it let him counter the jump kick. He blocked with his arm before he struck Dick’s solar plexus with the heel of his hand, which shoved him back several feet with the force of it.

When he realized that it was in fact Dick and not someone who was actually a threat, he allowed himself to relax minutely. “Getting sloppy on me Dickiebird?”

It took a moment for Dick to formulate a reply; the blow had driven the breath out of him. Once he had it back he wheezed a laugh and took up a ready stance. “Out of practice. Should swing by more.”

Jason snorted and gestured for him to come closer. A spar actually sounded like a fucking fantastic way to work off the nervous energy that had been building the longer Gotham stayed quiet.

“Last few times have been under pretty shit circumstances.” Dick feinted for his left and Jason deflected his next swing, then shook his head. “Wait. Injuries. List ‘em off.”

Dick huffed but obliged. “Shallow lacerations over my obliques.” He must have sensed the next question because he hurriedly added “Claws. Don’t ask. Partially healed already.”

“What else?”

“Deeper laceration on my left biceps. Sword. Moderate to severe bruising on the back of my left thigh.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “Turns out Deathstroke would rather me dead than his apprentice.”

Jason resisted commenting. “What else.”

“That’s it for major ones. Everything else is too minor to bother with.”

Jason’s eyes flashed with excitement rather than the Pit. His hands flexed in anticipation. “Then get your ass over here so I can wipe the floor with you.”

Dick obeyed.

They sparred for close to fifteen minutes. They gave it their all - Jason only pulled his strikes where Dick had forewarned him of prior injuries. Even then, he pushed. Dick’s face would cloud with pain and he’d hiss or yelp when Jason tagged him on a wound, but he never slowed down or called Jason out on it.

It was relaxing, in its own way. The familiarity with which they threw banter back and forth as easily as they traded blows was almost comforting. They fell into a rhythm that was only broken up by brief pauses as they considered their next move before moving in for the attack once more.

At last, Jason pinned Dick to the floor and Dick didn’t struggle. He shuddered slightly, went limp beneath him and panted heavily against the concrete. Jason narrowed his eyes as he looked at him lying face down, arms held behind his back to keep him from trying to contort his way out as he had several times before already.

Dick was like a goddamn fish with how flexible he was, and pinning him for longer than a few moments was a feat in and of itself. And yet there they were.

Jason leaned down, let his voice drop into the Hood growl. “I wear you out already? Getting old on me Dickiebird.”

“Nah just... shaking things up a bit.” He turned his head to grin up at Jason, eyes hidden by the lenses of his domino.

“I’m riveted. What’s next in this new performance act of yours?” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

He couldn’t see Dick’s eyes, but he _knew_ he wasn’t looking at him. Dick’s cheeks were flushed from exertion, but they darkened further under his scrutiny. He clucked his tongue, growling. “Again with this shit. When are you gonna learn it ain’t happening?”

Now Dick’s eyes were on him - he could feel them. “Why not? It’s mutually beneficial.”

Jason scowled and let Dick go. He pushed himself to his feet and brushed the dust from his pants. “Can’t get your rocks off elsewhere?”

Dick pushed himself onto his knees, and then stayed there, face raised to look at Jason. Oh he knew _exactly_ what that position insinuated. “It’s not about getting off. I thought you’d understand that.”

Yeah, maybe he knew something about getting pleasure and satisfaction from his sadistic tendencies without bringing sex into the mix. He just didn’t think Gotham’s golden boy did.

“So you’re telling me you’re _not_ sporting a hard on underneath your cup?”

Dick flushed and flashed a sheepish smile.

Jason backhanded him. He still had his gloves on so it wouldn’t be the pleasant sting of skin on skin. Dick gasped but didn’t retaliate. Instead, he bowed his head and tongued at his cheek. Jason wondered if he’d made him bite it.

“Huh. You’d really let me beat you.” It wasn’t a question.

Dick answered anyways. “Yes. Within reason.”

Jason narrowed his eyes and walked around Dick. “Oh yeah? What makes you think I give a shit about what _you_ think is reasonable?”

“Because you made me list my injuries.” He lifted his head to look up at Jason. “If my wellbeing didn’t matter, you wouldn’t ask. It stands to reason that you wouldn’t want to hurt me more than I wanted you to; what I considered to be within reason.”

Jason stopped behind him, grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him up. He let him stay on his knees but only just. He turned Dick’s head to examine his expression. He wanted to see Dick’s eyes. Damn fool couldn’t lie with his eyes.

“Flip the lenses.” Jason expected at least a token protest, but Dick raised a hand and did as he was told.

His pupils were absolutely _blown._ His gaze wasn’t entirely focused; he blinked a lot as he tried to keep his attention on Jason’s face, but it was obvious he was pretty deep already. Jason whistled low.

“Shit Dickiebird, you’re fuckin’ _desperate._ ” Cruelty laced his words. He didn’t care. “You get this kinda sick satisfaction when you get shitkicked by other people? Maybe that’s why you were so indignant about what I did to the Reapers.”

He was taking a gamble, bringing up such a sore topic while they were... doing whatever the fuck it was they were doing. But other than a tightening around Dick’s eyes he didn’t react. Interesting. Didn’t stop him from talking though.

“No.” He swallowed before he continued. “Just you.”

Jason sneered and threw Dick’s head forward, planted a boot on his back and shoved him down onto all fours in front of him. “That’s pretty fucked up. I dunno if I should be flattered or disturbed. Kinda leaning towards the latter.”

Striped fingers curled against the ground but he made no move to get up. He didn’t say anything either. Jason walked around to his front and crouched in front of him. He grabbed him roughly by the jaw and forced eye contact.

“Tell me what you consider reasonable. You’ve obviously given this thought.”

More tightness around his eyes, and he jerked his head out of his hand to speak. At least his gaze looked to hold a little more clarity. Good.

“No weapons. No blood - bruises are fine. No fire or burning. No permanent injuries. Nothing that would keep me from patrolling the night after.” He hesitated, then added, almost like an afterthought: “No CBT.”

Jason considered it. “That don’t leave a lot of options.”

“It really does.” He sounded so sure of himself. Jason had to wonder exactly how _much_ Dick had thought about this.

Only one way to find out.

Jason stood and circled him again. Dick remained on all fours. “Safeword?”

“Stoplight system. Red is stop, yellow is slow down, green is go.” He lifted his head to look up at him. “If I can’t speak, squeeze my hand. If I squeeze once that’s red. Twice is green.”

Jason planted a boot on his back and leaned his weight on him. Dick took it easily. His arms would tire eventually. “No yellow?”

A wry smile met his inquiry. “Two squeezes with a pause between them.”

“You think you got this all figured, huh?”

Dick remained where he was, playing human footstool to Jason. He’d be lying if the power play didn’t send a thrill up his spine. It wasn’t often any of the bat clan let him get this close, let alone trust him to be in control.

He kept his head turned up to look at Jason, his one visible eye blown with desire. Maybe not a sexual desire, but oh, the want was _there._ “Only on my end. Only what I want.”

Jason snorted. He put more of his weight on the boot on Dick’s back, reached down to curl a hand in his hair and yanked it back to break their eye contact. “You seem pretty sure you know what I want.”

Dick gasped but didn’t fight him. Another thrill went through him. “No. I’m gambling pretty hard here. I think we can make this work.”

“Me beating you.”

He could _see_ the fine tremor that ran through Dick’s body. “Yes.”

“No.”

Dick tensed beneath him. He tried to pull at Jason’s grip in his hair but he only tightened it, kept his head in place. He waited to see if he would fight him now.

He didn’t seem to know what he was going to do either until he sagged and stayed where he was. “Why not?”

The tone was very carefully neutral, and of course Jason couldn’t see his face to read his expression. He dropped onto his knee on Dick’s back without warning, drove him flat against the ground and knocked the air out of him. He yanked Dick’s head back while he gasped for breath to sneer at him. “Because if I wanted a punching bag, I’d get one.”

Dick’s limbs had splayed out when he’d been dropped, and he let them stay there. His fingers twitched slightly. He swallowed loudly with his head pulled back as it was. “Then I won’t be your punching bag.”

That was all the warning Jason had before Dick reached back to twist Jason’s arm and forced him to let go of him. The next thing he knew he was on his back on the pavement with a very smugly grinning Nightwing straddling his torso, his hands pinned above his head. It wouldn’t hold him, but that wasn’t the point.

A laugh grew in his chest until it escaped him. His torso shook with it and Dick rode it out with an arched brow. “Something funny?”

“Yeah, you.” He didn’t elaborate, just twisted his arms out from under Dick’s grip and shoved him off of him. Dick didn’t need to know that he had a wide grin under his helmet.

He stood and dragged Dick up with him roughly, before he let him go and crossed his arms. “I still ain’t convinced this is a great idea. I dunno why I’m even entertaining this fucking stupid endeavor. But sure, next time you wanna be beaten black and blue, gimme a call.”

Dick tried to keep the disappointment off his face. “Why not now?”

“Cause you’re already fucked up, and I got some thinkin’ to do before I do anything like that with the likes a you.”

“...Not even a little?” It was obvious that Dick tried to keep the hopeful tremor out of his voice, but his pleading eyes gave him away.

“I already gave you ‘a little’.” He sneered and gestured at Dick. “Any more and I’d have to carry you home.” A snort, and then, “‘Cept I wouldn’t, so you’d be doubly fucked.”

Dick sighed. “Nothing I say or do is going to change your mind?”

Jason considered, then swung his fist into Dick’s diaphragm. The satisfaction that spread as Dick wheezed and looked up at him in something like betrayal was warm and comforting. Teach the idiot right for trusting him.

“Go home Dickiebird. Call me when you ain’t so fucked up.” He turned and left before Dick could get his voice back to protest.


	2. In Too Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things escalate, and the family gets involved in his and Jason's little song and dance. Everyone has their own opinion on what he should be doing.
> 
> He doesn't care what they think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had this chapter done a couple months ago but kept forgetting to post it. Dick's POV this time because I love skipping POVs like that.

The sun had just started to crest the horizon when Nightwing crawled through his bedroom window. The shadows of the buildings on either side of the fire escape kept him from its greeting rays, but it was a near miss. Once inside he shut the window, set the alarm, and closed the heavy curtains.

It was tempting to fall into bed in suit, but he forced himself to strip out of it. He used solvent to get his mask off last, and then promptly collapsed facedown on his bed. A startled yelp escaped his lips when he was reminded of his latest encounter with Red Hood. He curled in on himself with a groan and wrapped his arms around his bruised ribs.

As far as their... sessions... went, this one had been more about Jason’s Pit Madness than about fulfilling any sort of desire on either of their parts. Hood’s operation had gone sideways, courtesy of Batman. Dick had been doing his own work elsewhere in the city, hadn’t known Bruce had planned to go after Jason because the man didn’t talk to him unless absolutely necessary.

Jason had sought him out, all righteous fury about Dick not giving him a heads up. He’d been deaf to any words Dick used to try and defend himself, so Dick spoke in a language they both were fluent in: fighting.

He’d thrown himself at Hood with everything he had, so  _ sick _ of being blamed for Bruce’s shortcomings all the time. It had taken a while for Hood to turn the tables, but when he had it was all Nightwing could do to protect himself from the worst of the beating. Subspace had helped numb some of it out, but he still  _ hurt _ when Jason got tired of him and left him in an old scrapyard. 

Getting home hadn’t been easy. He’d tried grappling  _ once _ and his back had spasmed so badly he’d dropped like a stone. He barely managed to catch himself on a flagpole to slow his descent before he’d landed on the street below. He stayed grounded after that, not trusting himself to swing through the air, free as the Kryptonian hero he’d named himself for.

It had taken over an hour to walk back to the apartment complex he called home, and Dick was hurt, dazed, and exhausted. He passed out quickly.

\---

He didn’t see Hood for over a week after that. There were sightings of him all over the city, but Dick never seemed to be in the right place at the right time.

\---

The shadow behind him made him tense up, but he forced himself to relax and turn to face Batman. Neither smiled. “Something I can help you with?”

“We need to talk.”

“That’s vague,” Nightwing pointed out, arching a brow.

“I know. Not here.” He turned and grappled off the roof. Dick rolled his eyes and leapt after him, his stakeout abandoned. He’d seen Red Robin lurking a few rooftops over though, so he knew it would be taken care of in his absence. 

Batman led him towards Old Gotham, which wasn’t a short jaunt. Maybe the Batmobile was in the shop. 

And maybe he’d only imagined Bruce observing his movements. That... didn’t bode well.

Old Gotham was still in repairs from the earthquake that had struck, causing No Man’s Land. The buildings hadn’t been built to stand alone, and so when their neighbors had crumbled, so, too, had they. Of course, reconstruction was well underway some odd years later, but the damage had been done, and Old Gotham would never be the same.

That had also been when he lost the ‘Haven. He shied away from the painful thoughts.

Batman stopped on top of one of the newer buildings, where gargoyles fiercely guarded its corners. Nightwing leaned against one and cocked his head. “Alright, you dragged me way the hell out here because...?”

He wasn’t answered immediately. No surprise there. He snorted softly and let his gaze wander to look out over the area. Many buildings were only partially constructed, they looked like strange half-dead monstrosities. Others were complete and jutted proudly into the skyline, all thick walls and rounded edges. The city’s history claimed Old Gotham had been built to deter evil. It hadn’t succeeded very well - had become infested with the worst of Gotham’s criminals.

Maybe the new Old Gotham would do a better job.

“You’ve been speaking with Hood.” Dick’s attention snapped back to look at him, careful that he showed nothing on his face. He could almost ignore the small hesitation before Bruce’s next words. Almost. “Does he seem... well?”

Nightwing shrugged. “He’s not going to go beheading people anytime soon, if that’s what you mean.”

A muscle twitched in Batman’s jaw. “I haven’t heard reports of increased violence from him as of late. Quite the opposite in fact.”

Could Bruce possibly know what they’d been up to? Was that what this was about? God, he hoped not. That was never a discussion he wanted to have with Bruce  _ or  _ Batman.

“What, like, his kill count is down?” That would prove once and for all that these sessions between them were beneficial to Jason. Or so he could tell himself. He might even believe it if he repeated it enough times.

Batman nodded curtly. Nightwing looked unimpressed. “Why are we  _ really _ here B?”

“I have reason to believe Hood’s headquarters are located in this area. From this point on I want you to redistribute your cases to the others and take lead on monitoring and apprehending Hood’s gang.”

Nightwing pushed himself up abruptly, brow furrowed. “Woah, wait a minute here. You can’t just expect me to drop all my other cases. Some of them are long game ops. You’d be asking me to throw away weeks or even  _ months _ of work that would be detrimental to them  _ ever _ getting closure!”

The cowl hid most of Bruce’s face, but Dick still watched his mouth turn into a flat, thin line. It was the face he made when Dick did something that irritated him. Well  _ excuse _ him for doing his damn job.

“I need you on this Nightwing. He trusts you.”

Oh  _ hell _ no. “And you want me to betray that for your own gain?”

“It’s in the best interest of everyone involved.” He sounded so sure of himself. Dick didn’t believe it for a second.

“No, it’s in  _ your _ best interest. Which, we established a long time ago, doesn’t match up with mine.” The sound Dick made was between amusement and disgust. “Really, B, you should know better by now.”

Batman stood just that much straighter and narrowed his eyes down at Nightwing. Nightwing looked back cooly, not easily intimidated by the Bat Glare anymore. They held each other’s gaze for several moments before Bruce spoke again.

“I’ll have Oracle send you the information. Maybe you’ll reconsider once you have the facts.”

Nightwing waved a hand flippantly. “I doubt it, but I’ll give it a look. I make no promises though B. I mean it.”

Batman didn’t bother with farewells. He jumped off the roof and glided out of sight. Ugh, great. Now he had to make his way back across the city by himself.

\--- 

“What does he think these files are going to tell me that I don’t already know?” He frowned and skimmed through the file names and dates. There were reports - both official and not - and photographs, some videos, and a few sound clips. All revolved around Hood’s movements and what his gang had been up to.

“You know how he is Dick,” Barbara said, her face in a window in the corner of his screen while he worked. She nursed a cup of coffee in her hands and leaned back in her chair. “Just give them a look.”

Dick sighed. “I’m looking. I’m not seeing anything I didn’t already know, or hadn’t already assumed.”

A small smile quirked her lips. “You should know better than to make assumptions where Jason is concerned.”

He clicked through to another report, skimmed it, and answered distractedly. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched while he read and she sipped at her coffee. It wasn’t uncomfortable or strained, just quiet. Finally, he found what Bruce wanted him to see. His cheeks flushed, and Barbara shot him a knowing smile.

“You knew?” He demanded. He maybe felt a  _ little _ betrayed.

She rolled her eyes fondly. “Dick, please. I am the eyes and ears of this city.”

“You knew that  _ he _ knew?” He groaned when she hesitated. “Babs, please. You’re killing me.”

“It looks like you’re doing a bang up job of that yourself.” She arched a pointed brow at him over the rim of her mug. It was her ‘I’m right and you know it’ brow, except he very decidedly disagreed on this occasion.

“So we spar sometimes.”

“He kicks the shit out of you.”

He caught her concerned look and frowned. “Babs I’m fine. I learned my lesson after the Reapers.”

“No, he changed the rules so you’d be less likely to be a dumbass.” ...Okay well, he was working on that. Her voice was softer when she spoke next: “How bad is his Pit Madness?”

_ Worse than we thought _ , he didn’t say. Instead he shrugged. “He seems to have it under control. His numbers are down.”

There was no way she believed him, not if the crease on her forehead was any indication. Thankfully she dropped it. “So what are you going to do?”

Dick looked the files over before he shook his head and closed them. “Tell Bruce no.” Her expression was doubtful and he got defensive. “Hey, I’ve said no before.”

“Not when it comes to Jason.”

He opened his mouth only to shut it again as he thought back. 

....Well shit.

“I’m doing my own thing with him, strictly off the record.” He glanced at the files with a frown. “Or, well, off  _ my _ record. I’m guessing it’s little Red getting these reports and not the B-man himself.”

Barbara shrugged and he snorted. Fair enough. He’d have to have a little talk with Tim. He was not looking forward to that.

He stretched back in his seat and grunted softly when his sore body protested. “I have to shower and get ready for the Wayne Charity Ball. Wish you’d reconsider.”

Her smile was lopsided. “I’m not quite the dancer I used to be.”

Dick shot a quick one back. “Never were much of one anyways.”

He laughed at her indignant - but amused - expression.

\---

Turned out he didn’t need to track Hood down; Hood found him. 

He was crushed between the brick wall and the broad expanse of Jason’s chest, arms pinned behind his back and cheek pressed against the abrasive bricks. Hood leaned down to put his mouth beside his ear and he had to fight down a shudder. Now was so not the time.

“You been following me goldie?” Hood growled into his ear, and fuck, a light shiver definitely coursed through him. He should probably take a look at that Pavlovian response sooner rather than later.

He swallowed and shifted minutely. Jason tightened his grip in warning. He stilled.

Alright, so, maybe not  _ soon _ soon. 

Nightwing flashed a bright smile over his shoulder. “That would require me to know where you came from. You caught me by surprise.”

Hood snorted. He let him go and pushed away from him. Dick rolled his shoulders to ease the pain of his arms being pinned as they had and turned to face him. “Yeah alright. What’re you doing in these parts then?”

“Was hoping to run into you.” He hoped he sounded as nonchalant as he wanted. The unimpressed tilt of Hood’s helmet said otherwise.

“There’s less idiotic ways of getting my attention.”

Nightwing wet his lips. Yeah, but they weren’t  _ nearly _ as fun. “But I do have it.”

That earned him a snort. “Alright, out with it. What do you want? It’s too soon for another beatdown.”

It could never be too soon, but he couldn’t let Jason know that. That would give the other man way too much power over him. He wasn’t ready for him to know how much he already had. He didn’t trust Jason not to abuse the knowledge. He wished he did but...

They weren’t quite there yet.

“B wanted me to spearhead the investigation against your gang.” The immediate tension in Jason’s body made Dick tread carefully with his next words. “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

Hood sneered at him from behind the mask - he had gotten better at reading him - and uncrossed his arms, hands clenched into fists, his body already coiled with the promise of violence. “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“I’d hoped you might work with me on this one.” He kept his body language very carefully neutral. The last thing he wanted to read as was a  _ threat _ . “I can feed B enough info he doesn’t look into it too hard.”

Jason approached him slowly until he backed him into a wall. Dick lifted his chin and gazed back into the reflective lenses set in the red helmet, unafraid. Hood planted his hands on either side of Nightwing’s head to box him in as he leaned closer.

“What’s in it for you?” He growled, and fuck, there was that shiver again. He hoped Jason hadn’t noticed.

Sirens blared to life right outside the alley they were in, before they faded into the distance. Neither of them flinched. Dick waited another moment before he finally replied. “I get to see you more.”

He saw the exact moment Jason shut down. Too bad he didn’t see the fist that slammed his head against the bricks in time. He blacked out.

\---

It was weeks before he saw Hood again, and not for lack of trying. Explaining away his bruised face had been easy enough. He didn’t even have to lie; Jason had caught him and punished him.

He hadn’t been out for long, but the concussion lasted a couple days. He was getting really sick of Jason’s cheap shots. At least he hadn’t stabbed him again. That had been even less pleasant than being on the receiving end of the Madness.

Something about knowing that he’d put a blade into him while clearheaded was worse than him fighting him to battle the Pit hissing in the back of his mind.

....He’d kind of deserved it though.

“You’re getting antsy.”

Dick shot his little brother a tired smile. “Worried where Jase ran off to this time.”

Hood hadn’t been seen in Gotham the last week and a half. Dick suspected he’d taken a job with Roy, since Dinah had Lian, and the fast-talking quicker-thinking redhead that was Jason’s on-again off-again ‘partner’ was nowhere to be found. 

“Not quite.” Tim tilted his head while his sharp eyes took in Dick’s appearance. His hair was disheveled from running his hands through and tugging at it so much. Dark bags were under his eyes from a shitty sleep schedule. His shirt was a couple days old and had more than one stain on it. He really needed a shower.

He hated when his brothers turned the tides and tried to look after him. He was supposed to watch over  _ them _ , not the other way around.

Dick gave a tired smile. “Stretched a little thin with everything going on. Seems I get close to resolving something only to fall further down the rabbit hole.”

“You’re worse than Bruce sometimes. At least he has Alfred to force him to sleep and eat like a real human being.” 

“Pot meet kettle.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “My  _ point _ is that you’re not taking care of yourself. You miss Jason and the spars you guys have. It became routine and now it’s broken.”

Dick shifted uncomfortably. He’d tried to deny it to himself and yet... “I really am worried about him.”

One of Alfred’s sharp smiles - the one that said he was an idiot but in a fond way - appeared on Tim’s face briefly. “They’re not mutually exclusive Dick.”

He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair for the upteenth time. “I know.”

“There’s more to it than a simple spar every now and again. You forget, I’ve  _ seen _ you.” He tilted his head. “I didn’t share  _ everything _ I found with Bruce.”

Dick’s eyes snapped to Tim. He studied his face; trying to read Tim was like trying to speak another language. Even Cass had difficulty, though she was better than most at understanding their little brother. “...Oh yeah?”

Tim rolled his eyes fondly and shifted his position so that his legs were crossed over one another. He looked coiled and ready to strike. Dick didn’t know how he did it. Not even Damian managed to look quite as deadly as Tim and he’d been  _ raised _ under the teachings of the League of Assassins. Tim had only been taught much later in life.

He also generally didn’t go full predator around Dick; he reacted to it almost subconsciously and... he relaxed. Tim noticed and smirked. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

Dick pursed his lips and crossed his arms to close himself off - not something he was prone to do, but Tim had struck a nerve and he felt vulnerable. “Don’t make it weird little brother.”

The affectionate endearment had Tim shedding the skin he’d adorned. He was just Tim again. A more comfortable version, anyways. Dick sometimes wondered how many sides Tim really had. “Are you going to be alright until Jason comes back?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” He sighed and looked out the window. He wondered if the weather was the same where Jason was. It was a clear day, if a bit windy.

“I know. That’s part of the problem.” He considered him briefly. “Do you have anyone else?”

Dick furrowed his brow and turned his full attention back to Tim. “For what?”

“To fight.” 

He knew what his brother was getting at but at the same time...

“I’m fine.”

It didn’t look like Tim was going to drop it when Dick’s cell rang. He grabbed it in surprise; his eyes widened when he saw the number. He jumped to his feet and headed away from Tim as he answered the phone.

“Where the hell have you been?” His voice was laced with concerned anger but he kept his voice hushed.

“Meet me at my safehouse by Grant Park. You know the one. Come alone. Bring first aid.”

Jason hung up and Dick made a low noise of frustration. He turned and nearly yelped when he saw Tim stood only a few feet away. He looked at him pointedly but Dick turned away. “I have to go.”

“Of course.” Dick ignored the tone of his voice, gathered a few things, and said a rushed farewell.

\---

When he arrived he quickly realized that the first aid wasn’t for him. He cursed and knelt beside Jason who was laid out on the couch, shirtless and covered in blood. A cigarette shook slightly between his trembling fingers. He grinned lazily at Dick, eyes not as focused as they should’ve been. “‘Ey there pretty bird. Took ya long enough.”

“Jason you should be in a hospital.” He hovered his hand over the many minute slices covering Jason’s skin. The worst of the cuts were on his forearms, so he’d probably been on the defensive.  _ What happened _ , is what he meant to say. Instead, what came out was: “You’re an idiot.”

Jason shrugged and took another drag of his smoke, the base of it rimmed in red. It looked almost like lipstick in the dim light. “That ain’t news. Hope you brought a lotta stitches.”

“Nowhere near enough. Luckily most of these look fairly superficial. Surface cuts.” He sighed and reached for the first aid. He pulled on latex gloves and soaked a disposable towel with saline solution. “Let me get you cleaned up first, see how bad it is.”

As it turned out, pretty bad, but not as bad as he’d feared. Jason didn’t so much as flinch as Dick cleaned him up, despite some of the wounds being much deeper than others. “Jason... what caused these?”

He shrugged and reached for his smokes, which Dick pushed further away with a scowl - he’d smoked another while Dick had rinsed out the cuts, which made two since he’d arrived there. Jason narrowed his eyes but didn’t argue. “I dunno. Wire, maybe?”

Dick stared at him. “What do you mean you don’t know.”

“‘Zactly what I said. I didn’t see.” He tried to sit up and Dick firmly pushed him back down.

“Stay still. I haven’t even  _ started _ stitching you up yet.” He reached for the first aid kit with a sigh. Jason, miraculously, didn’t argue. “I don’t have local anesthetic, just topical.”

“Shit, better ‘n nothing.” He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. Dick frowned and shook his shoulder. 

“Hey, stay awake.”

“Oh my god, I’m restin’ my eyes from your ugly mug, thas all.” There wasn’t any malevolence in his voice. 

Dick smirked and started to apply the numbing cream around the worst of the wounds. “Ugly huh? That why you call me pretty bird?”

He could see the motion as Jason rolled his eyes behind his lids before he opened them to meet his own. “You can’t poss’bly be this insecure.”

Dick shrugged and gave a small smile. “You throw off a lot of mixed messages.” He finished with the wounds on one arm and moved on to the next. His fingers gingerly held onto his wrist while his other hand applied the topical anesthetic. 

Jason didn’t answer him. He supposed there wasn’t really much to be said about it. His torso was surprisingly the least damaged. Then again, if Jason defended himself with his arms, maybe not as much a surprise as it might’ve been. Although...

“Wait. Were you wearing your body armor?” He searched Jason’s face. He didn’t know if he was looking for a lie or just looking. Jason was pale, sweaty, and his eyes looked bruised with how dark the bags under them were. 

“Yeah. Kevlar don’t work so good against slashes.”

He lowered his gaze to the multitude of wounds with renewed horror. If this is what Jason looked like  _ with _ body armor... God, what the hell had happened to him? 

Even with the topical anaesthetic, stitching the worst of the cuts closed had Jason’s teeth grit and his hands curled into fists. Dick was glad Jason’s nails were bitten to the quick, though that was worrisome all on its own. When had he picked up that nervous habit? He tried to remember the loud, boisterous, cocky Robin Jason had been chewing his nails, and simply couldn’t parse the thought.

Halfway through the bad ones, he stopped to give Jason a break. The other man was sweaty and looked a little wild; the whites of his eyes flashed in the dim apartment. Dick sighed and gave him a smoke. He held up the lighter to light it for him. Jason looked at him with suspicion but accepted it; his fingers trembled so that he had to pinch the smoke between them. Dick really hoped he didn’t drop it on himself or the couch.

“How did you get here like this?”

Jason snorted a plume of smoke. “Drove. Blood loss don’t affect me like it used to.”

Dick looked him over, then smiled wryly. “Still does though.”

“Sure does.”

He waited for more but Jason just quietly smoked and looked past him to gaze at a piece of artwork on the wall. Dick had seen it when he’d come in. It was a gorgeous woodblock print and he had a sneaking suspicion it was an original too. There had to be a story behind it, but he was almost certain he would never hear it from Jason.

Once the smoke was finished Dick took it from him and put it out in the ashtray along with the other snubbed out butts. He peeled off his gloves, donned a new pair, and picked up the needle, thread, holder, and forceps. He got back to work and closed Jason’s wounds. Neither of them commented on the noises that came out of Jason’s throat as Dick quickly and skillfully sewed him up.

“These are temporary. You’ll need to get these redone by a professional.” He flicked his eyes up to Jason’s face. “I assume you have someone.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah. Yeah I gotta guy.”

They fell into silence again, and Dick allowed it to stretch tight and unaddressed between them as he finished up. Jason visibly sagged in relief when he put the needle down, but Dick just looked at him apologetically. “Not quite done. Still need to glue some of these shut.”

His impromptu patient groaned but let Dick dot his wounds with superglue, just enough to hold them closed long enough to stop the bleeding. Most of the ones on his arms that he hadn’t stitched needed glue. His torso needed a few as well. Once that was done he rinsed them all with saline solution again to hopefully discourage infection before patting Jason’s biceps. 

“Alright, that should hold until you can go see your guy.” He tried to put amusement into the statement but he just sounded tired. He didn’t know what he was complaining about, he wasn’t the one that looked like he’d been whipped with a cat o’ nine tails made of piano wire.

Jason grunted and sat up gingerly to see how well Dick’s work held up. Nothing immediately started bleeding and Dick exhaled in relief. He began to clean up the first aid but bit his tongue when Jason reached for his smokes.

“Yeah, fuck you too Dickiebird. Like you ain’t never had a vice before.” Jason sneered at him and Dick just. Didn’t care enough to rise to the bait. He ignored him and finished cleaning up; he took off his gloves last and put them inside the disposal bag before he put those inside a separate pouch in the first aid. Habit.

He stood and looked down at Jason. He almost immediately regretted it due to the smoke that drifted up towards him. He waved it aside without comment. “You good then?”

“Yeah, should be if you did me up right.” He didn’t look at Dick.

Dick hesitated, then left without another word. Jason didn’t call him back. He honestly hadn’t expected him to.

So why did leaving uncontested make something inside of him curl up tight around his ribcage and make it hard to breathe?

\---

Three days later, he got a phone call.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

Dick blinked, very confused. “....You sure you’ve got the right number?”

He could almost  _ hear _ the eye roll. “Yes,  _ Dick _ head, I do.”

“Then what are you doing, exactly?”

An irritated sigh. “Working with you to get B off me and my guys’ backs. Bat showed up couple nights ago and broke a couple a my guys arms, demandin’ info.”

Dick rubbed a hand over his face. Goddammit Bruce. “Right. Okay. On the same page now. What do you need from me?”

Jason hesitated - Dick wondered if he’d suddenly second-guessed himself - but then spoke. “You can sign for food bank stuff right?”

He wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “...come again?”

Jason’s tone was impatient. “Food bank, you can refer people?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m allowed a few dozen a month. Why?” It was part of an outreach program through Wayne Enterprises, which Jason had to have known.

“That’s my payment. You give me your referrals. I give you info.”

Dick furrowed his brow, even more confused. “What do you need food bank referrals for?”

“Well  _ gee _ Dickie, it couldn’t  _ possibly _ be because some grown ass man in a fuckin’ bat suit keeps making it so my men can’t work  _ respectable _ jobs. How the hell else they s’posed to feed their families?” There was real anger that bled through the heavy sarcasm. Dick wanted to ask why he cared but he wisely decided against it. Last time he’d made a comment like that he’d been stabbed. He wouldn’t put it past Jason to repeat the stunt even if he had to drive all the way across the city to do it.

“Okay. They’re yours. I’ll sign them tomorrow and drop them off wherever you want.”

“The dropbox near your apartment. It’s the weekend, no one’s gonna be pickin’ anything up from it ‘til Monday afternoon.”

“Sure.” A dead line was his only response.

What the actual fuck had he gotten himself into?

\---

He didn’t actually see Jason again for nearly a month. That wasn’t to say he didn’t keep in touch. 

After he dropped off the referrals he didn’t hear anything for a few days. And then some street kids who looked like they could benefit from a few meals themselves waved him down when he was out on patrol. They very matter-of-factly handed him a sealed envelope, addressed in fancy cursive to  _ Dickhead. _ He snorted and tried to thank the kids but they’d already run away.

He clambered to the nearest roof to sit down. He opened the envelope and slid out the papers inside, the cover letter short and sweet.

_ “You wanted information on my gang, have at it.” _

“What happened to your showmanship, Jay?” Dick muttered to himself as he turned to the next page.

And stopped dead. “Oh.”

There, in fine detail, was a list of the men and women under the Red Hood, and a corresponding case file to the local hospitals and clinics. Some just had injuries listed with “ _ untreated” _ scribbled beside them. All of them had a name attached: Batman. Red Robin. Batwoman. Huntress. Robin. Batgirl. Azrael. Spoiler.

Nightwing.

Dick bet that if he cross-checked the dates on the case files with the dates of mission reports on the supercomputer in the Cave, they’d match up. 

The pages covered the last few years. He got to the last two pages and covered his mouth with his hand. 

[DECEASED]

Every single one of them. Cause of death was varied but it was very clear what message Jason had sent. Seeing his name even once beside one of those names was bad enough, but it was repeated a couple more times. 

He took a deep breath and very carefully put the documents back into the envelope. He’d pass it on because Bruce  _ needed _ to see it, but he would be having some  _ words _ with Jason the next time he saw him.

Except that time eluded him. Jason flew under the radar even as he continued to operate in Gotham. Bruce had been very tight-lipped when he’d shown him the documents, but had assured him he’d check the validity of them. He didn’t look like he’d bought Dick’s story of how he obtained the info. Frankly, Dick didn’t care.

Then, eleven days later, Jason phoned him again.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dick snapped into the phone. He’d had a long while to mull over what Jason had given him and he’d quickly decided that he was  _ upset _ , to say the least. Mostly with Jay being smug enough to give them the names and personal information of the members of his gang. One anonymous tip to the police and Hood would lose a good portion of his manpower in a short period of time.

But Dick had done some of his own research, and most of the names on the list were trying to support their families, who had little to no other income. Dick hated Jason a bit for it.

Jason’s tone strongly implied that he knew it, too. “Oh, y’know. Around.”

“You’re an ass.”

Jason snorted. “Ain’t news Dickiebird. Now shut up and listen.”

Dick grit his teeth and his hand tightened on the phone. “We’ll  _ talk _ after.”

“Sure, whatever. Now  _ shut it. _ This is important.” He waited to see if Dick would interrupt him before he continued. “There’s about to be a bomb crisis.”

“ _ What?” _

“Relax, it ain’t me. But I can only disarm one a them. Need you and the rest of the gang to get the others.”

“How long?”

“Not very, so listen very fucking carefully.”

\---

Five bombs. No casualties. It was a goddamn miracle. All thanks to Jason.

Who Dick  _ still _ hadn’t seen. And the number he’d called from last time had been disconnected, so Dick had no way to contact him.

When one of the sex workers slipped him a thin envelope with a wink and a lipstick print to his cheek one night, his smile was somewhat forced. How the hell was Jason getting his patrol routes so fast? He’d only started this one four nights before.

He purposely didn’t look at the envelope -  _ Dickface _ , it read this time - until after he was done for the night, and by the time he got home he collapsed on the couch before he could do more than take the gauntlets and boots off his suit.

In the morning he glared at it as he ate a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Finally, he tore it open and unfolded the papers inside.

His spoon hit his bowl and bounced to the floor.

\---

“You sonuvabitch, you knew!”

Jason’s amusement carried through the phone line easily enough. Dick wished he was there in person so he could  _ deck _ him. “That you wouldn’t open it? No, actually. I was kind of banking on you stopping that deal for me, but now I have to get a  _ different _ third party involved to get those guns off the streets.”

“No, you don’t get to pin this on me.”

“I can’t exactly fork over my own weapons  _ willingly,  _ dumbass. I needed the plausible deniability that came with you getting ‘em.” He snorted. “And you couldn’t even do  _ that _ right.”

Dick fumed, furious. 

“The hell you so pissed about anyways? I haven’t done nothin’.”

For a moment he didn’t have the words; anger clouded his rational thinking. “You gave me all those names and medical files - you knew what they meant!”

“That you and everyone else don’t hold yourselves liable for the damage you do on top a the good?”

“Of course we do. But we can’t let ourselves hesitate, that’s how people end up dead.”

“Sometimes they do when you don’t, Dickiebird. That’s fuckin’ life. You don’t think I don’t know how many graves I’ve filled with innocent lives?”

Dick shut up. 

“Is that the sound of you swallowing your self-righteousness? Shit I wish I was recording th-”

Dick hung up. Insufferable ass. Who did he think he was playing like he knew what was best? With a scowl he dialed a new number.

“Hey Tim, you busy? I have a favor to ask.”

\---

“Watch your six!” 

Nightwing spun around in time to catch a tire iron between his escrimas. The man that held it screeched and yanked his hand away as the electricity traveled through the makeshift weapon easily. Nightwing followed up with a swift kick and the man slumped to the ground with a groan.

A quick scan of the building showed all hostiles were down. Slow clapping from the rafters echoed in the abandoned factory. Nightwing looked up just as Red Hood dropped down; he had to raise his gaze to meet the lenses of the mask when Jason stood to his full height. 

Dick smacked him upside the head with one of his escrimas, voltage off. Hood’s helmet snapped to the side, and when Dick went for another swing, Jason caught the escrima in one hand.

“You  _ bastard. _ ” Dick snarled. All his anger that had built up over the last month reached a head now that the source of it was in front of him. He let Jason have the escrima and swung the other at him. It crackled with electricity. He connected with the symbol on Hood’s chest and then everything went black.

\--- 

Dick woke suddenly, only to be shoved back down by a strong hand. “Fuckin’ stop squirming, you’re fine.”

He blinked up at Hood, his mind clouded with confusion. “Wh-”

“Your stupid stick hit my suit’s defenses. It zapped it and made it zap back.” A smirk could be heard in his words. “Mine won.”

Dick groaned; his entire body definitely  _ felt  _ like he’d been electrocuted. His suit wasn’t completely non-conductible, but it still took a hell of a shock to get through. And enough to knock him out? “Yer‘n asshole.”

“Yeah whatever. If you weren’t tryna kick my ass in the first place that never woulda happened.” Hood stood and walked across the room; the sound of a mini fridge opening reached his slightly ringing ears. When Jason returned he handed him a water bottle silently.

He pushed himself up with a groan - his limbs trembled slightly - and he took the bottle with a shaky hand. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he greedily sucked down its contents. He could feel Hood’s eyes on him and he scowled, lowered the bottle, and glared at him. “What’re y’looking at?”

“Your dumb ass, apparently. Why the fucking hostility?” Hood crossed his arms. “You still pissed about the list? ‘Cause last I checked you fucking asked for it.”

Dick tried to push himself to his feet but his legs refused to cooperate; he tried again anyways. “And your stunt with the letters. Next time  _ text me _ you asshole.”

Hood snorted and shoved Dick onto his back easily. He made no move to follow up when Dick just gaped up at him in shock. “You got a bad habit a tracking phones. I ain’t keen on bein’ easy to find.”

Anger colored his vision and he tried to kick Jason. Hood just grabbed his leg and twisted it, which forced Dick to roll over onto his stomach or risk a sprain or worse. He gasped against the thin comforter that smelled like old cigarette smoke. “Jason!”

The tone was meant to be imposing, indignant, angry.

But instead it was breathy, and he fell still. He let Jason push his leg up until his foot touched his shoulder. A slight tremble ran through the limb and he pushed his face into the blanket at the low burn from abused muscles. 

“Is  _ that _ what this is about?” Jason snorted and curled his other hand into Dick’s hair to pull his face out of the bed. Dick made a small noise and bit his lip at the almost instantaneous switch Jason had not-so-inadvertently hit.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath at the implication of his words once the initial surprise passed. In its stead anger welled up again as he tried to reach for Jason’s hands. Jason let go of his head so his face hit the mattress. He captured both of Dick’s wrists and pinned them above him.  _ Bastard. _

He turned his head to the side so he could speak clearly. “Get off me.”

“I could do that.” Jason leaned down with a growl of his own. “Or I could help you get that ginormous stick out of your ass.”

His anger flared hot again and he used his free leg to twist and kicked Hood’s head into the wall. It wouldn’t really hurt him through the helmet, but it stunned him long enough that he could scramble further up the bed and out of his immediate reach. He didn’t think he could walk on his own  _ quite _ yet so he hoped Jason would stay where he was.

Hah, since when had he ever been  _ that _ lucky?

Jason recovered quickly and launched himself at Dick. He batted aside his kicks and punches and shoved him against the wall where a headboard would be had the bed had one. Hood flexed his gloved hand around his throat and Dick cursed how his breath hitched and his ears burned hot.

Unable to physically overpower him, he opened his mouth to say the safeword, to get the idea out of Jason’s head that his was all this was about. Then the front of the helmet was pressed against his lips and the words died on them. His eyes widened and his heart rate spiked at the implication of the action.

Hood growled into the pseudo-kiss: “You were the one that wanted to do this, and now you’re gonna say  _ no _ when I offer it to ya without a fight?”

A snarl curled his lips and he scraped his teeth against the front of the helmet. He met the unwavering blank gaze of its lenses. “You can’t just  _ use _ it to get me to shut up and drop what I want to yell at you about!”

“Did I say that?”

Dick turned his head to the side so he could speak freely, without his mouth and teeth being mashed up against Hood’s faceplate. He ignored the hand around his throat with a growl. He was so done with this bullshit. “You were ready to write me off.”

“I just wanted you to calm the fuck down. Figured this’d be as good a way as any.” He let go of him and leaned back. Dick blinked in surprise, glad his domino hid it. He rubbed at his throat and scowled at Jason, who looked as unapologetic as a man wearing a helmet could look. “But I ain’t gonna force it on ya neither.”

Dick bit back his initial anger and thought about it. Alright, he could admit that part of the reason he was so pissed at Jason had been that all their interactions over the last couple of months had been strictly business. Not that that invalidated his other concerns in the slightest.

But maybe Jason had a point. Maybe he needed something to help clear his head.

“Fine.” When Jason looked at him expectantly he just grit his teeth. “Green.”

He could hear his stupid grin. “That’s what I thought.”

\---

Dick made it home later that same night. He managed to strip out of his suit and collapsed into bed. He groaned loudly as the various aches and pains from Jason flared up. He’d gotten his escrimas involved, and had turned the voltage on at some point. They’d been at the lowest setting, and against his suit it was a tolerably painful shock. His muscles still spasmed a little in the aftermath.

And his cock was achingly hard; had been since... well, longer than it should’ve gone without being taken care of. With a pained groan he lifted his hips to slide his jockstrap off. His erection slapped against his belly angrily. Boners and cups  _ really _ didn’t mix.

He spat in his hand, too tired to reach for his lube, and curled his fingers around his cock with a hiss. The muscles in his arm cramped and jumped as he started to pump his cock into his fist. His legs shook as he tried not to thrust up into his own hand.

On top of the electrical shocks, Jason had hit his back and thighs with his escrimas, and several bruises darkened his flesh. He pressed into one on the front of his thigh with a cry; it  _ hurt _ . His cock leaked, oblivious to the pain or maybe just very on board with  _ whatever _ sensations Dick offered it right now.

He bit his lip against another sound, only to gasp. Another bruise on his bottom lip turned a part of it dark blue. He must’ve gotten it from when Hood had pressed his helmet against his mouth in what would’ve been a kiss had it not been in the way.

Unbidden, the image of making out with Jason - limbs entwined and lips locked - sprung to his mind in full technicolor. This time he bit his lip and held it despite the pain as he came all over his belly and hand. His balls drew up painfully from the force of his orgasm, and he twisted, kicked his legs, and gasped until his orgasm finished.

His limbs sprawled bonelessly around him as he panted heavily, mind in a daze.

Oh he was so, so fucked.

_ Fuck. _

  
  
  
  



End file.
